


Steven's Yard Sale

by Cameron_Clarke



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cameron_Clarke/pseuds/Cameron_Clarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A writing request</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Another beautiful summer afternoon in Beach City. Steven Universe, a pudgy young boy with curly brown hair and a rock in his gut, sits up in bed and yawns. He is waking up in the afternoon because he was homeschooled and has no concept of personal responsibility. The three women tasked with supervising him, as usual, are nowhere to be found, and so he slips out of bed, walks into the kitchen and pours himself his morning bowl of bagel bites. There is nothing in the freezer but boxes of bagel bites, and the refrigerator holds only condiments and American cheese. Steven's aunts are magical space aliens who know nothing of food, and so, when he first moved in years ago as a small child and could only think of "bagel bites" to put on the grocery list, well, he probably should have expected bagel bites. The little fat purple aunt, Amyethyst, returned from who-knows-where, shape-shifted as a commercial truck, and full of boxes of Bagel Bites. At first, Steven was ecstatic. Bagel bites were his favorite food. He loved how chewy they got when you put them in the microwave. Pizza was good, but those huge slices were difficult to manage without making a mess. Bagel bites were easy. You could get them in there in one mouthful, and you're done with it. You didn't have to worry about toppings falling off and onto your shirt or lap with bagel bites. Steven loved both their taste and convenience equally, but after a couple days they started to lose their appeal, and now, years later, his stomach turned every time he thought of them. It was at the point where he dreaded waking up in the morning.  
He ate other things, of course. When he got really desperate, he would waddle down to the donut shop or fry shack to beg for free food. The store owners and employees, mostly out of pity, would usually oblige. Steven had put on a lot of weight in the past year. He looks down at his gut while his bagel bites heat up in the microwave, and wishes he had gone with his aunts on their magical mission. He could sure use the exercise. The reason he had chosen to stay at home in the first place was because of his low energy level, which was (completely unbeknownst to him) all due the lack of proper nutrients in his mostly-bagel-bite diet.  
The microwave beeps, signalling the end of the heating process. He removes the bowl and stares sullenly at the contents. He sighs and begins stuffing the bagel bites into his mouth, two and three at a time. Sometimes Steven would add another minute on the microwave, just to buy more time before having to eat them. Not today though. Steven has plans for today. Today he is going to take all the useless magical space junk his neglectful aunts have left cluttering the house, and sell it. He plans to haul it all down to the boardwalk, but the signs he wrote out still read "YARD SALE".  
He belches and wipes his mouth on the collar of his 2-sizes-too-small star shirt. He feels something else starting to rise in his stomach, and leans over the trash bin, waiting for the puking to start. The feeling begins to pass, but Steven continues to stand staring into the bin as if hypnotized by the nutritional facts, which are all more or less gibberish to the uneducated young boy. A connection has been made and an idea is beginning to formulate in his head. Yes, he's got it now. He knows what he must do. Steven is going to bring his hundreds of boxes of bagel bites down to his yard sale and give one away with every purchase. With a tactic like that, he might even be able to get away with jacking up the prices a bit. Steven is extremely proud of himself. "Great job, Steven" he proclaims aloud before keeling over and vomiting into the wastebasket.


	2. Chapter 2

Gasping for air and wheezing hard, Steven drags a small red wagon through the sand up toward the Beach City boardwalk. The wagon, with additional planks around the sides stacked four feet high and duct taped together to provide room for more magical items and the seemingly endless boxes of bagel bites, barely budges with each desperate tug at the handle, but progress is slowly being made. The monstrous single load has turned a five minute walk into an hourlong ordeal, yet Steven remains convinced that this is a better and easier alternative to several smaller trips.  
He sees the shops up ahead getting closer, and stops to take a breath and wipe the sweat from his face using the collar of his shirt. He wishes he had someone here to help move all this stuff. He is about to resume his pulling when he hears a faint beeping sound coming from behind. Perfect. There's only one person that can be. He turns and sees Ronaldo Fryman out by the water, combing the beach with a metal detector. Fryman, a white, overweight conspiracy theorist with greasy blonde dreadlocks, has nothing better to do on your average day than lounge around the Big Donut, thinking up ridiculous hoaxes for his internet blog. The perfect candidate for lending a hand on this otherwise busy weekday. Steven calls over to him from across the beach.

"Let me get this straight" Ronaldo pants, already exhausted from the short walk to Steven and his wagon, "you called me all the way over here just to ask me to move something for you? Steven, I am very busy right now. I don't have time for your dumb, childish games."  
Steven stares back incredulously, mouth agape. Is this guy, who has accounts on every imaginable massively multiplayer online roleplaying game, really going to try telling him about "childish games"?  
"What do you mean you don't have time? I know you, Ronaldo, and I know that you have NOTHING but time. Shouldn't you be working right now anyway?"  
"I AM worki-" Steven cuts him off. "I mean the Fry Shack. You know, REAL work."  
Ronaldo hesitates. "Peedee's covering my shift right now" he concedes, looking down at his shoes. Steven picks up on his embarrassment and takes the opportunity to push harder.  
"Are you really such a loser that you'd force your poor brother to work in your place while you go off and play on the beach? Boy, I bet your parents must be proud of you."  
"At least I HAVE a job" Ronaldo shoots back, getting angry now.  
"Oh yeah, Ronaldo, real important job you've got there, dunking fries in hot oil and trying your hardest not to eat them all yourself. I feel so sorry for you and all the RESPONSIBILITY you must endure. It's not like I'M tasked with saving the planet with my wacky space alien aunts or anything." The sarcasm is not lost on Ronaldo, who looks back down at his shoes. It was a half-truth, of course- in the few years Steven had spent living with his aunts, he had not done a single thing to help "save the planet"- it was true enough, however, that saving the planet is what was expected of him. Ronaldo didn't know the difference, and it showed on his face when he looked back up to meet his eyes.  
"Fine" mumbles Ronaldo, defeated, "let's get this over with qui- hey wait" excitement now gleams in his eyes as he gazes at the wagon's contents. "Are those bagel bites?"


End file.
